


Goodnight, Goodbye

by Iron_Angel



Series: What we had was like gold dust. [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Depression, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:38:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8600245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron_Angel/pseuds/Iron_Angel
Summary: MacCready has fu-- um, screwed up, letting his temper get the best of him at the worst possible moment. Now he's lost the best thing he's had in a long time and he doesn't know what to do with himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: *insert standard "don't own, no profits made" jargon here*
> 
> Beta'd by: StonerGhoul.
> 
> Title from the song "Goodnight, Goodbye" by John Newman.

He was a fool, MacCready admitted to himself. Back in Goodneighbor. Back in the Third Rail. Back where he started. Well, maybe not exactly back where he started. Duncan had his cure. His boy had a chance.

_Because of her._

The mercenary squeezed his eyes shut and took a long pull from the bottle in his fist, the burn of the alcohol failing to distract him from his thoughts. Thoughts of her.

He stared at his hand clutched around the bottle's neck. Even after all these weeks, he could remember how her skin felt against his fingertips. Smooth and soft, softer than the velveteen of those stupid teddy bears she'd find and shove into her pack. Cushy stuffing he scorned until she presented him with the most comfortable bed he'd ever laid on when they'd made it Sanctuary. Not that he got much sleep in it, he thought with a wry smile.

It should have been his warning. Nora was always doing nice stuff like that, even for people she barely knew, and never asking for a single cap in return. Partly because of his too-long-held desperation for money, partly because he was always waiting for her to suddenly turn on him and collect for all the kindness she gave him, he finally confronted her after agreeing to yet another job without even a mention of reward.

Thinking back on it now, he didn't even know why he'd done it. She paid him. Yeah, she often had him carry her scavenge, but he was never in want for food or drink or even cigarettes. Maybe it was just because it had been hot that day, his back ached from every aluminum canister she'd come across in that old supply depot they'd cleared for that settlement, and --even though the sale of the oil alone would net them a pretty significant sum-- she _still_ didn't ask for a reward.

He snapped. He accused. He raged. He expected her to argue with him, to soothe his frustration with that silver tongue of hers.

She didn't.

She didn't say anything.

In an instant, he saw the light in her eyes go out. His gut twisted as her expression turned into a blank mask. She broke eye contact long enough to reach around into her pack and pull out the same bag of caps he'd given back to her after Barnes and Winlock. She thrust it toward him, and when he didn't immediately reach for it, she let it drop at his feet.

"Two hundred and fifty caps, as agreed," she said, her voice as dead as her eyes. "Contract fulfilled. Thank you for your assistance, MacCready." She turned and began walking back toward the settlement gates.

 _MacCready_. Not _Mac_ when they were in public. Not _Bobby_ when they were alone.

He stood there, mouth open and stunned, for all of ten seconds before he swiftly bent to snatch up the caps. His heart stopped as he straightened in time to see her push open the gate with one hand, the other pulling her 10mm from its holster. _She was leaving, and without him!_ "What?! Wait!" he called.

She didn't wait. She didn't even glance over her shoulder at him. He made to run after her and the gate slammed shut.

He was a fool. The few weeks of traveling with her, he learned she was incredibly stealthy. In the streets and alleys of a dead city, she could disappear in a heartbeat. He'd lost track of her a few times that way, only to find her waiting patiently for him around a corner. Now it was dark, he'd given her several moments head start, and it was suddenly very clear that she didn't want him to find her.

Just like that he was paid and dismissed, and she was gone.

He stayed at the settlement the better part of two days, hoping she'd come back after she'd had some time to herself. His sniper's eyes caught the faint glow of a Minuteman flare to the west on the second afternoon. Her flare. She was in trouble.

He left everything but his basics and ran.

Five raiders and one Minuteman, dead and picked clean of everything but their clothes. She'd survived the fire fight.

He was relieved.

From there, he made his way northwest to Sanctuary. If she was hurt, she'd go there.

He didn't even get three steps off the bridge when Mama Murphy called to him from her house on the edge of town. "She's not here," the old mystic said flatly, lips thinned in a disapproving line. "She won't return for a very long time, not even when we need her." It was futile to ask where she had gone. He knew without chems, Mama Murphy refused to use her Sight.

He turned and left without even bothering to resupply.

From Sanctuary to Goodneighbor, he stopped at every settlement along the way. No one had seen her. She hadn't answered any distress calls with the other Minutemen that had come to the rescue. She could have been dead for all he knew, and it turned his stomach.

There was a glimmer of hope in Goodneighbor, though. She had gotten on well enough with Hancock. Perhaps she'd started traveling with him.

The mayor was still in his state house itching to hit the road, but he _had_ seen her. She had come to him looking for work.

For supplies, not caps.

"I would've given her whatever she needed, but she refused," the ghoul told him. "Didn't even take enough to cover the tab. A couple stims and a lockbox of ammo." Hancock leveled a look at him. "Refused me again, too. Said she preferred goin' solo. What happened between you two? You were gettin' on pretty hot and heavy, I thought."

MacCready scratched at his forehead with a thumbnail. "I fu-- screwed up," he admitted. "I snapped. Said shi-- stuff I didn't mean. Things had been tense. We were having a bad day. It got to me." Hancock hmm'd. "Not an excuse, I know. Thinking about it, it's so stupid now. I didn't expect her to just walk away like that."

"Shit, brother, why didn't you go after her?"

MacCready glowered. "I _tried_! If there's one thing she's better at than repurposing that junk she's always picking up, it's disappearing. Especially in the city. And she's staying away from her settlements. You're the first whose even seen her at all."

"Goodneighbor's a good place to hide, man. Nobody asks questions."

The merc sighed. "Guess that means you don't know which way she's headed at all then."

Hancock busied himself with fishing out a cigarette and lighting it. "Well, I might, actually. Word from KL-E-0 is our favorite vaultie was repurposin' 'that junk' to soup up an old hazmat suit usin' her workbench, and Daisy's sold outta Radaway."

MacCready just blinked at him. "And this means what, exactly?"

The ghoul snorted smoke out of his nose cavity, looking annoyed and more than a little scary. "Caps and no questions asked, huh? Just a hired gun to watch her back as long as she paid you?"

MacCready suddenly felt like he was being insulted and he frowned. "Well yeah. That was the deal... at first."

Hancock continued to smoke and watch him with those unnerving black eyes. Finally, he stubbed out the cigarette and flicked it away. "Y'know, I'm a little jealous of you. Gettin' to follow such a gorgeous woman like that around for so long. Gettin' to know about her. Gettin' to _know_ her, too. She walks into Goodneighbor an' faces down a thug twice her size without so much as a tremor, but yet has a heart big enough to help ol' Kent and Daisy reclaim a little of their pre-war happiness. Sounds like one helluva woman to me. Must've been great."

MacCready flinched. She was always helping people. She even helped him. He wasn't blind. He knew she was on a mission of her own. She never talked about it. Then again, he never bothered to ask. Not even after their shared moments of release.

"Hazmat suit, a full stock of Radaway, and travelin' light?" the ghoul prompted.

The merc still wasn't connecting the dots.

Hancock let out a frustrated sigh. Some days it was hard being the smartest man in the room. "She's goin' to the Glowing Sea."

MacCready's eyes widened in shock. "No fu-- freakin' way! Why?! It's suicide!"

"Might have somethin' to do with that visit she an' Nick Valentine paid to Dr. Amari at the Memory Den." Another pointed glare.

MacCready collapsed back into his seat, running a hand over his face. He'd been there. Sort of. She and Valentine had gone into a downstairs room of the Memory Den and he... he had gone to the Third Rail to get a drink. When she came to find him later, she was pale and looked more tired than he'd ever seen her. He. Never. Asked.

"I'm such an asshole," he sighed.

"I agree."

He glowered at the ghoul again, but there was no real heat in it. "So that's it, then. She's gone for good."

Hancock lit another cigarette, this time offering one to the suffering man as well. "Maybe. Damn shame. Woman like that, with that kind of heart and always helpin' people, the world's a poorer place for her loss."

MacCready blinked the stinging from his eyes, standing to leave.

"I'd put caps down on her comin' back, though. Some of what I've seen myself an' a lot of what I've heard around, I don't think even a rabid deathclaw would stand a chance."

Just the thought of her facing that kind of monster made him sick. He needed a drink.

So here he was, back where he started in the Third Rail, drinking to numb the pain he didn't want to admit to himself. He missed her. Damn the caps. Damn the softer life he was getting used to with her. Damn her secrets. No, not secrets. She'd never tried to keep anything from him. Damn _him_ for never thinking beyond himself and his needs.

He drained the bottle and threw it at the wall opposite. It only _plink_ ed sharply and fell, still whole, onto the armchair below. He couldn't even muster the energy to curse at the pathetic display. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he left the bar and made his way to the Hotel Rexford for a cheap bed and a bad hangover.


	2. Chapter 2

Alcohol and hangovers became the norm for he didn't know how long until the caps ran out.

On a few occasions, Hancock stumbled into the back room MacCready had unofficially taken as his drinking corner to share a bottle or three. The mayor seemed to have forgiven him a little, but he didn't have any new news about her from his surprisingly long chain of contacts.

Plenty from the settlements, though.

For some unfathomable reason, Hancock took a personal interest in them. MacCready felt a shameful pang of jealousy that the ghoul seemed enamored with the woman he had no right to call his even if it was just to himself. So what if they'd shared a bed a few times? He'd let her walk away from him like he didn't even care.

In a haze of booze fueled introspection, he realized just how wrong and stupid he'd been. For a brief minute, he had been angry that she'd dropped everything between them like it meant nothing. But then he remembered her haunted stare, the dark circles under her eyes, the way her shoulders had been drooping more and more and not just because of her overloaded pack.

He had broken under the stress of a bad day.

She had broken under the stress of her life.

It was close to the one-month mark when Hancock had him fished out of the 'Rail and brought up to his office. The mayor was actually looking more sober than he was at the moment, leafing through some papers as he sat in front of his terminal.

"Some days, this mayor shit is a pain in the ass," he grumbled to himself. "Oughta get myself a secretary." He shoved the documents into the drawer of his desk with a disgusted snort and stood to greet his guest.

One look at the merc and his eyes widened. "Mac, my man, ya lookin' worse than I do. Think ya might wanna cool it with the rotgut a little?" Then he blinked as he realized what he'd just said. "An' that's comin' from _me_? Holy shit..."

MacCready just scowled.

Hancock waved him off. "Eh, save the adorin' glances there, Killshot. I got work for ya."

"No thanks."

"Ya say that like ya got a choice." He perched on the edge of his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. "I got Charlie bitchin' 'bout a tab you've run up an' a permanent MacCready-sized dent in his back room armchair. I'm thinkin' ya might appreciate a few caps in your pocket, too."

MacCready sighed, rubbing at his temples. "I really don't want to."

"Glad I really don't care what you want. Look, Mac, I ain't judgin' ya for wantin' to drink it all away. I sure as hell ain't one to talk. But this shit's gotta stop. It ain't bringin' her back. Don't think she'd have you right now even if she did come back. You look like shit, man. So this is me yankin' the welcome mat out from under ya. Take this job an' get th' fuck out of Goodneighbor before I let good ol' Charlie take his caps outta your skin."

The merc let out an annoyed groan. "Fine. What's the job?"

"Caravan headin' southwest needs a guard. Seein' as farther south ya go the baddies get a whole lot bigger, best bet is to take 'em out from a distance. If ya ain't gone an' drunk yourself blind, you're the best man for the job."

Southwest. Rain, radiation bogs, and giant mutated monsters. All the things he loathed. Hancock wasn't giving him a choice, though. Charlie was a mean bastard for a robot, but Hancock, _he_ was a man you didn't want to be on the bad side of.

"All right, I'm on it."

"Good. I'll have your first payment sent down to Charlie to settle your tab--"

"Hey, wait!"

"--while ya pack your shit an' get out. I wanna see ass an' elbows out that gate in an hour."

With no small amount of grumbling, MacCready turned and headed for the door. As he jerked it open and stormed out, he heard Hancock call out, "You can thank me on the next supply run."


	3. Chapter 3

  
MacCready was going to punch Hancock in the non-nose next time he saw him. It felt like it'd taken the whole week for him to fully recover from his hangover, and by that time the caravan was crossing into the Natick region. Now he was wet _and_ miserable. His duster kept most of the rain out, but his exposed sleeve and scarf were soaked through. At least his current misery, bone-deep cold and pained-yet-somehow-numbed digits, distracted him from the other aches.

He kept his complaints to himself, though. Unlike Nora, his new taskmaster was a very no-nonsense elderly woman that was all Commonwealth hard edges and wisdom. There wasn't a single soft thing about her. Her eyes were flint, her mouth a permanent scowl, and her patience brittle. It only took one off-hand remark out of MacCready to have her verbally eviscerate him more effectively than a combat knife. So now he kept his mouth shut, speaking only to alert the crew of incoming danger or to answer any questions specifically asked of him.

"Sun's getting low, Boss," his fellow guardsman pointed out, holding his fingers horizontally to the sky and closing one eye. "Should we find a dry spot to set up camp?"

The taskmaster shook her head. "We're not far from Somerville Place. We'll camp there. Bill and his kids are always good for a roof and a hot meal."

Contrary to the cheery sounding name , Somerville Place dreary and gray. But one look at it and MacCready felt his heart soar. A newly patched roof stood out in contrast to the old weathered walls. Two MKII turrets chugged from side to side at each end of the house. A mutfruit sapling was trussed at the end of a vegetable garden, the mounded dirt at it's base looking freshly disturbed.

Two kids, a boy and a girl, stood up from weeding the garden and ran excitedly toward the caravan, calling, "Auntie Velma!"

MacCready watched the woman suddenly transform from harsh old battle-ax into a doting mother hen. She smiled broadly as the two kids barreled into her open arms.

His taskmaster preoccupied, MacCready turned to the man coming out of the house. Bill, he assumed. "Excuse me, I noticed the mutfruit tree in your garden. I was wondering were you got it."

Bill blinked at him, then cracked a smile. "Newcomer to Velma's crew, eh?" He offered his hand to MacCready to shake. "She's a tough ol' bird, but don't let that fool ya." He turned his attention to the fruit tree. "Tree's a gift from the Minutemen General. Gonna to take a bit of work to get it thriving, but well worth the effort. Kids'll love having the fresh fruit on the regular. And it seemed awful important to her."

MacCready felt a smile tug at his lips. "Yeah, she insists on planting one at every settlement she comes across." He coughed slightly to clear the catch in his throat. "Looks pretty new. Has she been gone long?"

Bill jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the house. "Nah, she got back about a week ago. Needs some recovery time. Soaked up too many rads while out in the Glowing Sea." He dropped his voice a little as if he was afraid of being overheard. "Damn fool thing, in my opinion, going into that shit."

MacCready's heart jumped into his throat. "Mind if I go in to see her?"

The settler looked confused, but nodded. "Sure. Make yourself at home." MacCready shook his hand again in thanks and forced himself not to flat out run into the house.

Nora was sitting at the table in the candle-lit common room, a bag of Radaway taped to her arm and feeding through the tube in the crook of her elbow, head bent and wrist-deep in the guts of a ham radio.

For a long moment, MacCready just stood there in the doorway and stared at the glow shining off her coppery hair. It was much shorter now, the wavy curls he remembered replaced by a tight pixie cut. She had traded her blue vault suit for olive drab fatigues that didn't hide the weight she'd lost.

There had been many things he'd wanted to say to her if he ever got to see her again. He'd had more than enough time to rehearse his lines in his head during his self-destruction in Goodneighbor. Everything from 'What the hell?!' to 'I'm sorry.'

He settled for a softly spoken, "Hey."

She jerked upright, but didn't turn to look at him. A few tense seconds slipped by, then she carefully set aside a screwdriver and picked up a pair of pliers, delving back into the radio.

He slowly stepped into the room, coming within an arm's length of her. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but kept his hands fisted at his sides. "I, uh... I've been looking for you."

"I don't need a hired gun anymore, thank you," she said, polite but flat. Lifeless.

A spark of anger flared in his chest at that, but he stamped it out. She wasn't going to run him off that easily. "Already have a new job, thanks."

"Then what do you want, MacCready?"

He moved around the table into her line of vision. He sucked in a sharp breath when he finally got a good look at her. Her face was gaunt, her skin too pale even the warm light. The dark circles under her eyes now looking like someone had blackened both of them. Maybe that wasn't far from the truth, though, judging by the still-healing cuts across her nose and cheek.

She stared up at him with that same dead gaze, waiting.

A sudden realization hit him. She was giving him this one chance to make his peace. He knew that this was the last time she'd ever let her guard down enough to be caught like this. He would never see her again after tonight.

A very physical pain clenched his chest and it hurt to breathe.

He leaned forward, hands pressed against the table and squeezing his eyes shut against her empty stare. "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry," he all but sobbed. He didn't care that his voice cracked. "I was a selfish asshole. I didn't understand what you were going through. I never asked about how you were holding up, even when I could see you were struggling. I thought everything would work itself out and be okay like it always seemed to."

He swallowed and made an attempt to look up at her, but couldn't manage it. "This doesn't make up for how I acted. I'm not trying to excuse myself. You didn't deserve any of what I said. And I didn't deserve anything less than you walking away from me. I know I bi-- complained a lot, but I never wanted you to leave me."

He slid his hands an inch closer to hers now resting on the table. She didn't move. He prayed it was a good sign. One chance, he reminded myself. He moved one hand to rest his fingers lightly over her knuckles.

"Please, Nora... I miss you so much."

She slid her hand out from under his and pushed her chair back sharply, and his world bleached out in white noise. In his mind's eye, saw his Lucy. He loved her so much and he lost her without being able to do anything to stop it. Then he saw Nora. Tearing up the Commonwealth to find her, tearing himself up when he failed to do so, he could admit now that he loved her, too. And it was so much worse to know he'd lost her because of his own bullshit attitude.

It was like an electrical shock to his system when her arms looped around his waist and she pressed her cheek into the middle of his back. The rushing noise in his ears suddenly fell into absolute silence, and all he could hear was, "I miss you, too, Bobby."

Then all the sounds of the world came rushing back to him like a sonic boom. He wondered if he fainted, because he was suddenly turned in her arms and holding her tightly to him with no idea how he got there. He might have also been crying, but he wasn't sure.

He kissed her forehead and cupped the back of her neck, pulling her into his shoulder as his other hand rubbed up and down her back. He felt too many bones through her clothes. He would deal with that later. Right now, he needed this.


	4. Chapter 4

Nearly three months apart hadn't done either of them any good, MacCready realized. While he'd spent too much of the time drunk and feeling sorry for himself, Nora had been alone with no one to stop her, to make her eat and sleep. Half dead from deprivation, the radiation of the Glowing Sea was making a fine effort of finishing the job. Bill had been afraid the General wasn't going to make it and had radioed the Castle for help. From there, Preston had called on Hancock for supplies. And Hancock had thrown MacCready out on his ass to get him back to his lady.

The merc was still going to sucker punch the esteemed mayor next chance he got, but then he was going to thank him.

MacCready sat in the armchair across the room, elbows on his knees and chin propped on his fist as he watched Nora sleep on her borrowed mattress. She looked peaceful and some of her color had returned, but she seemed so much more fragile now. Or maybe she always had been and he hadn't seen it past her mask of confidence and competence.

"I thought Mayor Hancock had gone soft in the head when he asked me to take you on," Velma said quietly, stepping into the room and offering him a steaming coffee cup. Some kind of herbal-tasting cider that warmed him from the inside out as he slipped it. "Had enough help, thank you very much. Didn't need some mouthy hotshot bugging the shit out me." She waved her own cup towards the sleeping vaultie. "I see, as ever, he had an ulterior motive. Never clocked him for a sappy romantic, though."

She turned on him, looking suddenly hard and sharp again. "You're still on my tab for a return trip, MacCready. Gotten use to saving shotgun shells thanks to that one-shot-one-kill aim you got. But," she turned her gaze back to Nora, "I'm willing to take on another set of hands if she sees fit to take you back."

He let out a low, slightly bitter chuckle. "And what makes you think I'm the one that needs taking back?"

"With the way you practically lit a trail running into the house for her, there ain't a doubt in my mind you were the one that screwed up, boy."

He shook his head ruefully, sipping at his hot drink again. "You're a good woman, Velma. Thanks."

"That's 'Boss' to you. And you're welcome."

The next morning, MacCready woke to orders being barked at him from outside the house. The caravan was loading up to move on again. Time for him to get back to work.

He looked over to the sleeping area. Nora was already up and gone. He almost had another panic attack until he'd walked outside to see her halfway up the pack brahmin, feet braced and pulling with all her might to cinch the ropes tight around the cargo. Load secured, she dropped down. It wasn't the most graceful of landings, but she stayed upright.

"Take off looked good, but the landing could use some work," he said as he joined the party.

She turned to him, narrowing her eyes slightly. She looked wary, but at least there was life in them again. He could accept that. That was enough for now.

"So, uh... You heading my way?" he asked, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

She nodded, eyes looking everywhere but at him now. "Yeah, as far as Goodneighbor at least. I'm hoping to catch an escort with one of Hancock's caravans heading north. I need to get back to Sanctuary."

She was looking better than last night, but she still seemed awfully weak. He didn't like the idea of her literally crossing the whole of the Commonwealth like this. Not without him to watch her back.

He swallowed his nerves and took the leap. "I'm, um, obligated for the return to Goodneighbor, but afterwards, if you want me, I'll be your gun again." As an afterthought, he added, "No charge."

She met and held his gaze for a long moment. He felt judged, weighed, and measured. He didn't blame her. There was a lot between them that needed fixing. He would accept her caution if she would only accept him again.

"Okay," she said at last.

He let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. It was too soon to take her in his arms and hold her close again, but he so desperately wanted to.

He held out his hand to her.

She took it.

"All right, stow the chatter," Velma suddenly snapped from the other side of the brahmin, all hard-ass taskmaster again. "I don't pay you to talk. Get this walking ribeye moving." She swatted the beast on the backside with a long, whip-like tree branch. It shuffled forward at a snail's pace for all the good it did.

With a defeated sigh, MacCready gave Nora's fingers a light squeeze --a silent promise for later-- and turned to take up his post as point-man. This was his penance. He could do this. For her.


	5. Chapter 5

  
It took ten days to reach Goodneighbor. Hancock might have sent MacCready out with an interest in helping him find his way back to Nora, but the merc was also hired to do a job. So he did his best not to grumble at the detour to the Castle for the supply delivery.

Nora had chosen to stay behind in the bombed-out diner while the caravan made it's stop. MacCready knew why when he was immediately accosted by Preston asking after the General the moment he crossed the threshold.

Was she okay? Where was she? Did she find what she was looking for?

MacCready didn't have any answers for the Minuteman other than, "She's alive." He didn't know anything else. There just hadn't been another moment for the two of them to talk.

They wouldn't get one until after reporting in to Hancock upon their return. The ghoul missed out on the punch MacCready had mentally promised him, but the nonverbal thanks in the form of a handshake was met with an approving nod.

Nora let him take the lead and didn't protest when he asked for just the one room at the Rexford for them that night. It felt awkward, though, being the one to call the shots. He wasn't sure he liked this continued point-man position. She was giving him too many chances to screw up, he thought.

He closed the door behind them, sliding the lock in place before turning to see her standing by the window, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Anxiety filled him now that he had her alone again.

"I... I think we need to talk," he began.

"We do," she agreed, voice soft.

He moved to stand behind her, reaching to put a hand on her shoulder, but stopping short of the contact. She hadn't made a move to touch him since Somerville. He was unsure she'd want him to now.

He clenched his fist, letting his hand fall back to his side. "I want to make this better, but I don't know where to start. I want things to go back to the way they were between us. If they even can."

"They can't." She turned, staring at him again with that measuring look. "I help people. It gives me direction in this hell I've woken up to. Caps mean nothing to me. They won't get me what I need. But helping people, making friends, that _will_. I don't need a mercenary, MacCready."

Please not _MacCready_ again, he thought, heart sinking.

"I need a friend."

There was hope in her eyes, burning into his mind and searing into his heart. She was giving him all the space in the world to walk away now, or to take this second chance he felt he didn't deserve. This was her offer. It was his choice.

He held his arms out to her. "You got me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued in part 2.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


End file.
